milliways_bar | (no subject)

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There are points in the rafters where two beams cross. Some of those points intersect with vertical supports; others don't, providing a broader flat surface at the junction.

A laptop is balanced on one. Early 21st century model, sleek and advanced for its time; a knowledgeable eye, given a close look at the specs, might notice that a few components look suspiciously... well, alien. And that a simple laptop probably shouldn't be capable of quite so many things.

River is reading something on it.

She's a huddle inside her long brown coat; her face is pale and tear-splotched, with dark circles under her narrowed eyes, and hot slow tears spill down her cheeks. But she doesn't move, except to scroll down, and she doesn't look away.

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Her voice is (always) (AlWaYs) (always) off.

It's off tonight too, words not matching tone not matching face not matching eyes not matching each other.

She's not really smiles as she sits next to River.

"You know how they say it's darkest before dawn? You know? They kinda keep assuming, um. You know. Dawn's coming.

"Sometimes you just get a supernova. Or a black hole."

River was still and huddled before.

She's frozen now.

It's not fear, and it's (mostly) not anger; it's wariness.

"Lady," she says very low.

And then, "I know it." That's fact; that's bitter.

She laughs.

It's short, and it's sHaRp and then it's gone.

"You do."

She's looking at the laptop.

"I KnOw this."

And she's smiling and she's not.

"It'll be a playdate."

"Not a rutting game," River snaps, and flinches hard an instant later.

"I. I don't. There's sunlight. Saturation of photons in the Brownian signature."

On the laptop screen: dry words black on glowing white. A report of a place called the Negative Zone: a prison of

(come under the shadow of this)

red rock and shadowy monsters.

There's a moment of very soft and very there silence before Del tilts her head to

look

at River.

"She's Family." It's low, as two bright blue-green eyes stare at River.

"Don't tell me. Not me. I know."

And then she's giggling and her voice sings as she says, "BuT sHe'Ll StIlL pLaY. AlL kInDs Of PlAy, MeImEi."

And then, "You know. You know."

Her blue eye's sad.

"Which game do you think she'll like best?"

"Please," River whispers.

Her eyes swim with tears. They're red from crying already.

"Please."

"Please what?"

Her look's sharp in a different way.

"Please who? You or her or me? What and who and when and all those. It's not enough."

The fingers on her left hand are plucking carbon atoms from the air and making taffy from them.

The fingers on her right hand are very softly touching dark hair.

"I don't know. You know? I do and I don't. It's not enough. Please, River?"

River's head under her hand doesn't
move

an inch.

(For an instant, she can feel every strand of hair against Del's white fingers. It doesn't make sense.)

"I want to help," River whispers, after a long silence.

"Enough. Shouldn't go there. Shouldn't be. Everything caves in, the rocks are falling and they bruise. There's blood under the skin."

A moment's silence, and then, very softly, "Isn't yours. Lady-sai."

"It's in spheres."

"No. No. Her fathers' daughter. All four of them."

Softly and with a bright smile.

It's still a little sad.

"Closer than she used to be. It's all on the knife's edge."

"ShE cOulD bE."

Her fingers are still stroking hair.

"Shouldn't never mattered.

"How much do you want to help?"

River's eyes flick to her and hold, her focus suddenly sharp and intent.

She's still weeping. It doesn't matter.

Low, "Charge a price."

It's a question. Not will you charge, but what will you charge.

"No. Yes."

Her hand plays in the air.

"It's a gift. But you have to take it. And if you have it you have to carry it. You see?

"She made her choice. I'll show you. Con your vantage. Let you see it. And then you make yours.

"But you have to see it."

And then, "It hurts," simply.

"Make it hers."

River's eyes drop. She takes one breath, deep and shuddering, and lets it go.

"It'll help."

"Maybe."

"Might."

There's a kiss like warm sunshine to her temple.

"You'll know."

River's eyes close.
who we are
That doesn't always help.

(and I want to dance with you again)
and what we do

"Okay."

"It's okay."

"It won't be. And it will be. And it is. Just--a lot. All that."

Del's smiling.

River can't see it, but it's not sharp this time.

"Take my hand."

River studies her.

Only one instant's glance down. And then, very slowly, she lifts her hand, and places it in Del(iRiUm)(ight)(bothandmoreandandand)'s hand.

They're there.

And then they're there.

"First we see."

Just see with eyes, the room with the womangirlwoman who's holding her legs too tightly to her chest and not looking at the blood on the wall.

See, not be seen.

This comes first.

There are walls.

There are walls in the walls and the floor and the ceiling and the bed and the air and Kitty is holding herself much, much too carefully, and River --

(shhhh, mèimei, shhhh)

knows that posture inside and out. Three years at the Academy -- you make friends. You all break and bebuild and are shattered together, and you see, and you learn.

There's blood on the wall. Blood and shreds of skin.

(when they take away what made you special)

And Kitty's hands are swathed in bandages.

On her rafter, River flinches hard, with an almost inaudible moan.

There's no laughing from the Endless stroking River's hair still.

The Endless stroking Kitty's is giggling.

"ShE bAnGs HeR FiSt AgAiNsT tHe PoStS, ThE liTtLe GiRl WhO'S NoT a GhOsT."

Whispers, "WaNt To PlAy?"

Whispers, "Let go and it stops. For you. Not her."

"Not today." It's tight and short and she's pulling her knees closer except she can feel them this way they're pressing too much and she wants them to not be there but then there's nothing to hold on to.

People hold on. It's what people do.

She has to stand up, and she does, and she can still feel the pressure from where they were touching her chest, still feel the way the shirt's clinging a little.

"No, thank you, not today."

"Never stops." It's almost a moan.

Her fingers twitch and clench in Del's. But they don't let go.

"Never in all the time. That's the point. Full marks."

"WhY wHy WhY?" It's sulky. "LiTtLe NiEcE pErSoN. ThErE aRe GaMeS. We'Ll PlAy ThEm. We WilL. WhIcH WiLl YoU dO? LaY dOwN aNd CuRL Up Or TaKe YoUrSeLf OuT Or DyE tHe FlOoR ReD?"

"Head of the class," she promises and blinks silver eyes.

She's not answering.

She's not answering that, just staring at the wall now, not Del, just the wall.

She doesn't hit it.

Kitty kicks it, hard, after a moment, and wishes it gave, wishes something gave, and knows if she kicked the bed it would.

It's tempting.

"Kitty," River whispers, eyes wide and comprehending and overflowing with tears.

"Jiě jie. She cheats."

"Everyone cheats, baobei."

"YoU'Re GoNnA StUb YoUr ToE," she sings.

"First we see," Del murmurs, "and then we"

(it helps)

"really see."